Steward's Drabbles
by Lilan
Summary: Drabbles and double drabbles about the new Steward's life with his family.
1. Ways

**Ways**

They are standing just below me.

"Elboron, you should not eat green strawberries. You will be sick," Faramir says, looking down at our five-year-old boy.

I usually scream and slap him lightly on his little hands, causing the strawberries to fall. My husband lectures to him patiently about consequences.

Elboron stuffs a handful of unripe berries into his mouth and grins at his father triumphantly.

"My way is better," I think as I quietly withdraw into the room from the spot at the window from where I have been watching my two men, my grin matching that of our son.


	2. Sons And Daughters

**Sons and Daughters**

A delighted squeak reaches us in our parlor. Faramir looks at me and grins.

"The boy is enjoying it properly," he says. "It is so good you thought of it."

I grin back, turning away from the window. Elboron, stark naked, is splashing happily in a big wooden tub filled with water.

Well, it **was** filled with water a very short while ago. Now, only half of what was poured to warm in the sun for him to play in remains.

_The boy…_

"Éowyn?"

There is concern in my husband's voice. I keep forgetting how easily he sees into my very heart.

I come closer and sit down at his feet, resting my head in his lap.

"I am so glad the war is over…" I blurt out suddenly.

Faramir slides down from his chair to sit on the floor beside me.

"Why, love?"

"Because mothers can have sons and live not dreading the day when they ride off to battle," I answer.

"It is good indeed," I hear, and catch a slight amused quiver in his voice. I have learned to read him too.

He winks conspiratorially and whispers in my ear, "Because it is no better with daughters."


	3. On the Count Of

_A/N: my thanks to a very very sweet little girl named Catherine who inspired this one! May she grow bright and beautiful and happy :)_

**On the Count Of...**

'Let's try again, Elboron. One, two, three…'

'Twenty!' the boy beamed.

Faramir sighed.

'No, child, not twenty. One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers. Now you try.'

'Twenty,' Elboron repeated and grimaced. He was clearly bored. His eyes wandered past his father and to the White Tree, covered with big yet delicate blossoms.

Faramir smiled and caught hold of one of the large branches.

'Shall we count the flowers on this one?'

Elboron nodded, nearly bouncing with excitement.

'One, two, three, four…'

As the Steward neared the end of the branch, his eyes rounded in amused disbelief…

'Twenty,' he sighed.


	4. Conquering the Bridge

**Conquering the Bridge**

Éowyn grabbed the ropes tightly. The narrow bridge swayed.

'Come,' Faramir beckoned from the other side.

She swallowed nervously and could not resist the temptation to look at the small stream running merrily far below.

'Éowyn?'

She looked him straight in the eye.

'I have been scared of this bridge since I was a small child,' she said quietly.

Faramir nodded and smiled at her.

'Come to me,' he said, not a trace of astonishment on his face.

Had he shown any, she would have turned back… but he could read her too well. He _knew_ her too well.

Éowyn squeezed the ropes and took a step forward with a new resolve…

The bridge continued swaying slightly, but she managed to keep her balance very easily as she was moving towards the middle.

She grinned triumphantly at her betrothed and pressed on.

She was a little breathless from the excitement when she finally reached the other side. Faramir stooped to the bush that grew nearby and produced an enormous bunch of bright blue cornflowers, which he must have hid there earlier.

Éowyn laughed and held the sheaf to herself.

'For the most valiant lady of all,' Faramir said and grinned.


	5. These Same Walls

**These Same Walls**

'It is beautiful,' Éowyn whispered, looking over the farmlands of the Pelennor, as the warm twilight was slowly claiming it.

'Is it?' a voice said behind her.

She turned around, smiling at her husband.

'Reminds me of Rohan… is it not odd?'

'Do you miss it?'

She laughed, turning back to the fields. 'As if I had the time!'

They stood together in silence for a while.

'Remember…once, standing upon these walls, we only saw traces of the battle there…'

'There are more pleasant memories than that, my lady…' Faramir chuckled.

And a soft, warm garment wrapped about her shoulders.


	6. Apples

_A/N: Written in response to Cressida's "Autumn" challenge._

Éowyn always loved his homecomings after long days or even weeks in the White City. She could not accompany him at every instance, having matters to attend to in Emyn Arnen, and he always tried to bring her something from these trips. Something very nice…

He was back, and not empty-handed. She gasped as he pulled a cloth off a basket of golden sweet-smelling apples. Ithilien trees were still saplings, and it would take long years before there were baskets of apples from their own orchards…

As usual, he read her thought almost before she had time to finish it.

'My love, we shall have to please ourselves with apples from elsewhere until the garden I promised you starts to yield fruit,' he smiled, lightly kissing her temple.

'Besides,' he whispered, leaning to her ear, 'I thought their colour would suit the gold of your hair. I had red apples offered to me, but they would be simply wrong.'

She chuckled, leaning into his embrace.

'Tell me, Faramir… how could I have resisted you for so long after we met?'

His face grew serious again as he lifted her chin gently and answered, 'Things need time to ripen. Like apples.'


	7. Rain

_**Author's Note:** Written for Cressida's "Rain" challenge._

**Rain**

The summer rain now feels warm against his skin.

He turns his face upwards and sees Éowyn's slender form in a window.

'I thought you men of Gondor had more sense than to stay out in the cold rain!' she calls out to him.

Faramir grins and replies, 'Nay, we merely have enough hardiness!'

'I cannot wait to give you your deserved chastisement, my lord,' his wife says, leaning forward from the window; her sharp eyes do not fail to notice the way his wet shirt clings to his body.

He grins again.

'Neither can I, my lady…neither can I!'


	8. A Window

_**Author's Note:** My thanks to Cressida for the prompt, and to Astara for the bit of inspiration that came from talking about her latest story!_

**A Window**

'And this,' Faramir announced, 'is to be our bedchamber.'

The room, empty, looked even bigger than its true size. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, painting golden patches on the wooden floor.

Éowyn gasped admiringly and went to one of the windows. Faramir followed her.

'What amuses you, my lady?' he asked, noticing her smile.

''Tis not amusement, but happiness that you, my beloved husband, are a man who never goes back on his word,' she replied with a most serious air; but his puzzled look soon made her laugh merrily.

'The window,' she explained. 'It _does_ look eastward.'


End file.
